


don't feed the strays (they'll all stay)

by halfwheeze



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Faeries - Freeform, Gift Fic, Good Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), M/M, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Romantic Friendship, Sciles gets a puppy, christmas mention, welcome to the trainwreck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwheeze/pseuds/halfwheeze
Summary: in which scott mccall continues to bring home strays, and stiles stilinski continues to feed them.





	don't feed the strays (they'll all stay)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Whispering_Sumire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whispering_Sumire/gifts).



> Happy holidays, y'all!
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy, and Happy Christmas especially to my Secret Santa Giftee!

It starts with a puppy. A puppy with three legs and a patch over one of his eyes, but a puppy nonetheless. He’s a scrappy little thing. 

Now, that is a perfectly normal thing to bring home to their shared apartment, if one is able to completely disregard most everything that goes on in their lives. Stiles isn’t sure how  _ puppy  _ is supposed to mix with  _ werewolves,  _ but Scott’s the alpha, and if the alpha is okay with the puppy (providing the puppy, no less), Stiles supposes all shall have to be okay with the puppy. Even Stiles, who is going to have to go with Scott to pick out doggy diapers and pee pads and all sorts of bullshit that Stiles doesn’t even know how to begin to research because he’s  _ never had a fucking dog, Scott.  _

“He’s just a baby! He was hit by a car this morning, and his owner decided he just… didn’t want us to do anything to save him. He just wanted us to put him down. Me and Deaton decided not to,” Scott explains, stroking a hand over the pup’s head and holding him out to Stiles a bit. Stiles sighs and takes the dog as softly as he can, willing his hands not to shake for even a moment as he pulls the little thing to his chest. The pup nuzzles into his collarbone, and Stiles is sold. 

“What’s his name, then?” Stiles asks, because he’s not even going to try playing devil’s advocate in the argument of whether or not to keep the sad, injured little puppy that needs a home. 

“The guy didn’t tell us, so - I figured you might want to name him? You’re a lot better at that stuff than me,” Scott replies, shrugging a shoulder with his little puppy dog smile, and Stiles sighs. He thinks for a moment, looking down at the big blue eyes that are already reminding him of the brown ones just a foot from him, and he breaks into a smile. There are already a million plans for feedings, for shopping trips, for rearranging the furniture for treats and toys and all sorts of things, so Stiles just smiles. 

“Emrys,” he says, and Scott doesn’t even think to question him. Emrys it is. 

★★★

Second is the faeries, with their fickle fingers and fine lined faces, whom take to Stiles even more than Emrys had. 

_ “L _ _ eannán,”  _ one says as she pulls at his jacket sleeve,  _ “leannán ceannaire.”  _

He is not one of the members of the pack who learned Gaelic to communicate with the faeries, but he kinda wishes he was when whatever she’s saying makes Scott blush dark and shake his head. Then, at least, he could defend his alpha. Scott says something back to them, quick and confident as he would be in English, and Stiles holds himself back from glowing with pride. He has always been the one to reassure Scott that he’s smart, brighter than all the stars they could see laying on the roof outside of Scott’s window, and this is just proof. Scott learned to communicate in a whole new language in less than a month with only a bit of magical aid, and even Deaton had spoiled him in praise. 

“Hi,” Stiles says to one of the faeries pulling at his hoodie, holding out a finger for her to land on, should she like. The faeries aren’t all that much bigger than butterflies, though Stiles knows from experience that they can take a human sized and shaped form as well. She lands on his hand just so softly, on the back of his hand rather than the extended finger. One of her friends, or Stiles can only assume they’re friends, is sitting on top of Emrys’s head, and if he thought it wouldn’t cause problems, he would definitely take a picture. 

_ “Is é mo ainm Layla,” _ she says, bowing her head to him, though he knows not what it means. He turns to Scott for help. 

“Her name is Layla.  _ Tá sé Stiles,”  _ Scott explains, adding what is assumably an introduction of Stiles, to which Layla bows her head again. Stiles bows back, which is seemingly not the thing to do, as all of the faeries are rather shocked by it. Scott laughs, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“What’d I do?” Stiles asks, looking between Layla and Scott, though he would only understand the explanation of one. 

“You’re not supposed to bow back. It’s a sign of deference,” Scott says, still smiling in his soft little way, but it just confused Stiles more. 

“But you bowed. You’re the alpha! Why can’t I bow?” he presses, and Scott has enough in him to look a little embarrassed. 

“Well, to the faeries, you’re more powerful than me. Because you’re the emissary and, uh,” Scott stops, looking at Layla and the other faeries like they’ll stop him from saying whatever needs to be explained. Stiles shoves at him a little, jostling him. 

“And what?” he asks, though he almost doesn’t want to ask more. Scott looks so nervous, uncomfortable, in a way he never is with Stiles. 

“And my second in command,” Scott says, and Stiles doesn’t need to be a werewolf to know it’s not the whole truth. 

“Okay,” he says anyway. 

★★★

Scott doesn't need to do more than venture to the fucking grocery store to bring someone else home for dinner; it's a good thing that Stiles always cooks for five. With werewolves involved, that's just enough to feed three. He just never thought he'd be opening his kitchen table to Jackson Whittemore. It's not that odd, to see Jackson walking through the apartment door and setting a bag on the floor, so Stiles just doesn't react to it; all kinds of people have walked in and out of that door, and Jackson is just another. He continues with the stir fry he's stirring and frying, nothing to see here, nothing to worry about. Jackson stands awkwardly in the entrance to his kitchen and Stiles has to fight down a smile - it's kinda fun, to be able to make someone like Jackson feel awkward now. 

"Sti, don't be mean," Scott admonishes as he brushes past him on the way to the fridge, only offering him a hand on his shoulder by way of greeting. Stiles grins and then immediately pretends to be put off, sighing as he slides over to look at Jackson more clearly. The werewolf looks tired, awkward, hands together in front of him as he squirms while Stiles looks at him. That's fun. But, Stiles can also see the parts of him that have been alone in London for a couple of years, the parts of him that have been lone-wolfing it for way too long. Instead of giving him some snide remark, as a younger Stiles might have done, Stiles shrugs. 

"Hey Jackson. There's a puppy in the living room that would love to meet you. His name is Emrys. Dinner is in about fifteen minutes. Scotty'll show you the spare bedroom," he says, not reaching out to touch Jackson as he would any members of the pack, but just turning away. He thinks that'll make Jackson more comfortable, seeing as the hospitality already feels like a bit too much. Jackson makes a noise of confusion before just darting into the living room, and Stiles can hear the delighted yips that signify that Emrys is indeed pleased with his new playmate. 

"Are you good with this?" Scott asks when they can pretend Jackson is out of earshot, wrapping himself around Stiles's back. It's not an unfamiliar form of affection; besides all of their times doing exactly this, they've also had a lifetime of sleeping in the same bed during sleepovers that make this more normal that it should be for any pair of best friends around. Stiles leans back into it for a moment before turning around, letting Scott's arms fall so Scott's hands are on his hips, equally as comfortable as when the were resting on his stomach. Stiles grins at him, and Scott gives him a soft look back, something undefinable in the realm outside of Scott, who always makes sense to Stiles even when nothing else does. 

"I'm fine with it, bud. If you think he can stay here, it's cool with me. We're not the same people we were in high school, and I'm sure Jackson isn't either. We'll figure it out," Stiles assuages. He puts a hand on Scott's chest and pushes the alpha away, dislodging the hands on his hips. 

"Go show him the guest room. Wash your hands before dinner, nasty," he says, and Scott flashes him a smile before doing as he's told. Stiles holds the warmth of Scott's smiles in his hands and turns back to cooking them dinner, letting it all flow outward from him. There's more to focus on tonight.

★★★

Stiles honestly doesn't know how Scott swung this one. He knows that, logically, Scott has a lot of influence, being the alpha in the place where the Hale pack used to cool their heels, but there's a lot going on here that he frankly just doesn't know how to process. A few weeks ago, maybe three or four, Stiles had mentioned vaguely missing Derek, wanting to get to know Cora, feeling kinda lonely for some Hales, even Peter, joking and not joking in the silent privacy of their kitchen. Scott had given him a look, and Stiles hadn't thought anything of it. It was just a look. Now, standing in his living room, looking out at the collective gathered, sans Jackson and Emrys as the wolf had decided to take the pup on a walk to Lydia's. 

"Hey, Stiles," Derek says. It's shocking that he breaks the silence that's gathered between them like he's not the one who put it there in the first place, like he's not been the silent one all along. Stiles breaks into a grin and gathers him into a hug, so used to tactile expression living with two werewolves that it simply comes naturally. Instead of the awkward pause that he's expecting, Derek just melts immediately into it, gathering him up by the baseball tee and hauling him in closer, pushing Stiles's face against the leather of his jacket. It's surprisingly soft, and Stiles doesn't mind it near so much as he thought he would. He notices Derek stealing his constant, chronic body pain, but he doesn't comment. 

"Hey, Derek," he says, pulling back from the hug with eyes that he would never admit are wet. He and Derek had grown close before the Hales skipped town, what with holding the guy above water in a pool, saving each other's lives and all that. He turns to Cora and dips his head, asking for permission that he didn't give Derek the chance for. She smiles, rolling her eyes and opening her arms, which he immediately dives into, pulling her into a hug just as tight and deep as her brother's. She pops his back, because of course he does, and he grazes a kiss on her forehead in thanks. 

"What about me?" Peter drawls from behind him, and Stiles considers it for a moment. He turns and looks Peter up and down, letting a contemplative smile slip onto his lips and a welcome gather around him, so much calmer and kinder than he once was. 

"When was the last time you killed someone?" he asks, the same deadpan he's always had, and Peter laughs while Scott's eyes look like they're about to bug out of his head. 

"Honest? Last time I was home," Peter answers, and when Stiles looks at Scott, his alpha nods. Stiles slips into a truer smile, one a mite less cunning, and steps closer to Peter. 

"Then, we're good," he says, and then he's pulling Peter in for one last hug, plastering himself to the older man's front. Peter has the startled jolt he had expected from Derek, not seeming to believe in the affection he's receiving before he melts into it even more than Derek had, scent marking Stiles's throat shamelessly. Scott makes a light noise of protest and that's all it takes for Peter to stop, but he had already done it. 

"If Scott doesn't mind, I don't care if you guys scent mark me to your wolfie desires. Come on, I know you've missed me," he prods, looking at Scott to make sure there's not even a hint of discomfort. Scott rolls his eyes fondly and nods to the wolves, shrugging a shoulder as if it was only Stiles who had to give permission, never his alpha. All three of the Hales surround him now, Derek covering his back while Peter stays at his front and Cora sneaks into one of his sides. He can't even really tell who he's being scent marked by all the time, but he doesn't really care; he's missed them as much as they've missed him. 

"So how long are you staying?" Stiles asks later, when everyone is done having their fun and he's on a couch between the Hale siblings, Peter in an armchair and Scott still standing in the doorway. Derek looks up at Scott for confirmation of something, smiling lightly when Scott nods. 

"I think we're coming home for a while," Derek says, quiet but sure, and Stiles cannot bear to contain his joy. 

“That's great! Where are you moving in?" he asks excitedly, already imagining helping Derek and Cora find apartments, because he knew Peter would be a lazy shit and just let his niece and nephew handle it. Derek flashes an even bigger smile, showing off his little bunny teeth. 

"Scott's been... calling in favors, getting the old Hale house fixed up for us. We should actually go check on it. You can come see us, or we'll come see you, later. It's been great to see you again, Stiles," Derek says, standing to exit with Cora and Peter following him immediately. They each give Stiles another brief hug before it's a leather exit, quick and concise. Stiles feels lighter for them having been here, and he turns to Scott. 

"How many strings did you pull to bring them home, Scotty?" he asks, point blank, as soon as he thinks the Hales will be out of hearing range. Scott rubs a hand over the back of his neck, stepping closer to Stiles. 

"Maybe a lot? I don’t like it when you miss people. You... you smell so sad," Scott replies, avoiding a direct answer, but well enough that Stiles doesn't mind. Stiles steps in to hug him, to wrap himself around Scott's middle and bear his throat to Scott, because he knows how much Scott wants him to. 

"Thanks, buddy. Go ahead and scent mark me, alpha, I know it's driving you up the wall," Stiles teases, rubbing his nose a bit into Scott's collarbone before the alpha gives in, dipping his nose against Stiles's throat. They stand together for a while so Scott can do what he has to do, and Stiles wouldn't want to be anywhere else. 

★★★

This one really isn't Scott's fault, but Stiles wanted to blame him for it anyway, so he'll do what he damn well pleases. It's Scott's fault that they're in the apartment anyway, because it's not like the two of them could have gotten passed the wards all on their own (especially the ones that Jax helped put up; he's taking to magic pretty well), so he'll blame Scott, actually. Blaming Scott is totally fair, and definitely not inspired by the fact that he had to triple his favorite pasta recipe for two more people to come over than usual, and totally not added to by Isaac Lahey hanging off of Stiles's alpha like he belongs there. 

Chris Argent looks a lot more free than the last time he was in Beacon Hills, but that's probably chalked up to the proud looks he gives Isaac, the lax curve of Isaac's shoulders. It's obvious to see that Chris has spent this time mourning, but also bonding with Isaac, giving him the kind of father figure that he actually deserves. Stiles doesn't have enough bitterness in his heart to stay jealous of the comfortable way that Scott hugs Isaac back for long, because Stiles knows that this is what Scott wants. He knows that Scotty has always wanted Isaac to feel safe, for everyone to be happy, and Stiles can't begrudge him for that. Especially when he can't even admit to himself why he would. 

"Well. How have you guys been holding up the fort?" Chris asks, nursing his glass like it's two fingers of whiskey rather than eight ounces of orange juice. Apparently, Isaac had broken him of any drinking habit he had developed between the deaths of his wife and his daughter, putting him on a good diet so that he would stay around as long as possible. Stiles tries not to see the guilt tripping in it, but it's exactly what he does to his Dad, so he can only call Isaac out so much. Instead, he smiles at Chris, loose and snarky. 

"We have faeries and a kitsune and a were-coyote and more magic users than humans in the pack. We've been doin' pretty good," he explains, only giving the briefest of run downs, because this is a light dinner conversation. He and Chris are left on the outs while Scott and Isaac excitedly chat back on forth, laying all over each other even if they're supposed to be eating. They'll get around to it sooner or later; it's not like werewolves can wait but so long. 

"All that? Have room for another werewolf and a hunter?" Chris says, dipping his head and taking a sip of his juice. It's a question that Stiles knows he can say no to, but he doesn't even look at Scott before he answers. 

"Definitely," he says, and Chris and Isaac take an apartment on the floor below within the week. 

★★★

Okay, this one is definitely Scott's fault. He knows by the way that Scott cringes before he even starts explaining, dragging three dirty teenagers into their living room, only one of whom cries wolf. One of the other ones is something, but Stiles's magic can't decide what. The other one is human, but he has a spark in him. Stiles turns dead eyes on Scott. 

"Scotty, what the whole fuck?" he asks, deadpan and real, and Scott and his ragtag little teenagers all wince. The not-wolf-not-human girl looks a little curious, a little confused, like she knows what Scott is to his pack, wants to know why someone is being this way to the alpha. She'll learn that maybe Scott is Stiles's alpha, but he's Stiles's dumb ass best friend first. Stiles sighs and closes his laptop, setting it on the wooden coffee table that was his and Scott's first purchase together, proud and magic laced and everything. Scott opens his mouth, but Stiles puts his hand up. 

"Alrighty, what are your names? I'd like to have some names for my inner monologue instead of wolf-boy, not-wolf-not-human girl and human boy," Stiles says, mostly so that the three of them won't underestimate him, but also because he's genuinely curious. Not-wolf-not-human girl opens her mouth first. 

"I'm Hayden, this is my boyfriend Liam, and that's his boyfriend, Mason," she introduces shortly, pointing to wolf-boy and human boy respectively. Stiles nods and looks at Scott, who still looks apologetic. Stiles gives him a nod. 

"Hayden used to be kinda a werejaguar but she's now a werewolf, so that's why she feels different. They're, uh, I wanna take all three of them in. You know how it can be, two wolves and a human out there on their own," Scott explains, like he's asking permission, and Stiles supposes he is. Stiles sighs again but shifts into a smile, nodding once. He turns to the three newbies easily. 

"Jax is still in the spare bedroom, but you guys are still in high school - everybody has, like, non-abusive, relatively good parents, right?" Stiles asks, to receive confused nods all around. "Awesome," he continues, not at all embarrassed of his emphasis on it, "so, pack dinners are every Saturday at seven, and they're not, like, required attendance or fuckall, but you will miss out on your chance to pick movies the next time if you miss out one night, so! Better to show your wolfy faces! Except you, Mason, you can show your not wolfy face, obviously. So, yeah, that should be it, all other directives obviously come from Scott, though I am the ultimate resource - besides our good Lydia Martin - so come to me or her for your most pressing supernatural questions." 

All three of the newbies look so confused it's fucking funny, but, again, Hayden seems most likely to speak. 

"What the fuck?" she asks, open and plain, and Stiles likes her. 

"Well, if you're gonna be pack, you might as well be pack. I don't do things in halves! Seriously, though, if you ever need a place to stay, we'll figure something out. Chris and Isaac have a spare room just downstairs, and Derek, Peter and Cora have like five spare rooms, though four when Malia is staying over, but really, you guys would only need three max, but anyway! Yeah, just show up occasionally, and, Mason, weapons training is at the same time as wolfy training, so remember that! Also, it's all on the preserve, so if you don't know how to get to Hale house, we'll show you," Stiles rambles, only stopping when Scott lays a hand on his shoulder, grinning. 

"What Stiles means is, welcome to the pack, guys. We're happy to have you." 

★★★

It's Christmas Eve Eve and Stiles is cooking dinner for eighteen people and some little stuff for the faeries who live a five minute walk into the woods from the apartment with a puppy nipping at his heels with every single step when he realises that he and Scott have been married for years and he hasn't been getting any kisses for it. Himself, his dad, Scott, Melissa, Peter, Derek, Cora, Malia, Kira, Kira's mom, Kira's dad, Chris, Isaac, Liam, Hayden, and Mason are the expected showing tonight, along with Emrys and the faeries of course, but Stiles has to pause for a moment. Scott has carved out a family for him, here, and Stiles didn't even notice because he was too busy being exasperated. Scott needs to come home from the store right now. 

Of course, other people in the pack can cook, but it's only really Kira's dad, Kira's mom, Mason and Derek who can cook besides Stiles, and Stiles doesn't mind cooking for everyone. He feels closer to his mom when he does it, feels like he's providing for the pack, feels good. There's something in that, feeling like he should provide for the pack more than anyone else, feeling like Scott depends on him for that. Scott comes in right then, quietly opening the apartment door, but Stiles can feel the energy shift of the power of an alpha entering his wards. It's just the same feeling as Scott slides into his personal space, putting down the bags on the counter and plastering himself to Stiles's back all over again. He dips his nose to nose at Stiles's hairline. 

"Hey," he says in greeting, sounding relieved to be there at all, and Stiles smiles. 

"When were you gonna tell me that we're mates?" Stiles asks, simple in the way that he knows will bring Scott pause, and it does. There's a werewolf frozen against his back and Stiles continues smiling, stirs the pot that's on the back burner with Polish cabbage in it, stays relaxed and lets Scott process his content. He lets Scott realise on his own that this is something that Stiles could never be mad about. 

"You're not weirded out?" Scott asks, soft, quiet and worried, against Stiles's hairline. Stiles turns in his arms, setting down the spoon on the counter before throwing his arms around Scott's shoulders. 

"Of course not, stupid. We've been married since we were six, don't you remember?" he teases, and then he's leaning up to kiss Scott and this is everything he's ever wanted. This isn't the first time he's kissed Scott, because he and Scott kissed for their wedding, and he and Scott kissed during some puberty driven curiosity, and he and Scott kissed sometimes just because kissing was fun, and Scott's the best friend he's ever had. It's all Stiles has ever wanted because it means something, because it is something, because it's everything. 

Christmas is great, and not least of all because Scott’s holding his hand as much as he can for the entire day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed, lemme know if y'all saw anything I need to fix! 
> 
> Hit me up @halfwheeze on tumblr if you wanna prompt me or if y'all need anything!


End file.
